


Mr. Sandman

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_kinkfest, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, HP: EWE, Sleep Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny needed a place to escape to, Draco wanted to give her that, and so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Sandman

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by LiterarySpell and EmilyWaters1976

They had collided in Diagon. She’d been distracted—running from a reporter, he would later discover—and not looking where she was going. 

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” he complained, pushing her back. When he saw who it was, he immediately sneered and then wiped off his robes as if she had dirtied them. “Oh, its you! What’s the matter, Weaslette? Are you so high and mighty now that you’ve forgotten how to walk on the ground among the rest of us?”

“Piss off, Malfoy! And get out of my way!”

“Ginerva!” the reporter chasing her called. 

“Oh, no! Damn it!”

Draco looked over her shoulder to see a stubby man a head shorter than she is with a camera in his hand. “Ginerva! Just one photo, please.”

“Bugger off!” Draco and Ginny both said.

The photographer narrowed his eyes at them, and then gave Draco a once over. He shook his head at Ginny. “Didn’t know you kept company with that sort. My readers will be very interested in hearing about this,” he said, taking a quick shot of them, Draco scowling and Ginny looking annoyed. 

Once the man left, Ginny turned to Draco. "Oh great! Now you've gone and really done it, Malfoy! There will be ten times as many reporters asking about my "relationship" with you!”

“You ran into me, you overrated bint. As if anyone would ever believe we’re friends anyway. I only keep the best company.” he boasted.

Ginny sneered. “From what I hear, you don’t keep any company at all these days. Not only are you still a prat, but the only friends you’ve ever had are either dead, in jail, or have fled the country!”

Draco gritted his teeth. She’d hit a nerve. Crabbe’s death was still sore, a wound he picked daily. And Goyle was in his second year of serving a five-year sentence in Azkaban. Blaise had distanced himself from Draco and everything related to Slytherin, or Hogwarts for that matter, and was living in Rome with his mother, while Pansy’s family had packed up and moved to Lyon, France, where they had family. No one else came to visit him, no one owled. No one cared. To everyone else he was Draco Malfoy, a failed Death Eater, friend of failed Death Eaters, a man who should have ended up in Azkaban with the others but who had gotten off because of his mother’s lie, and still a widely known and despised former bully of the great Harry Potter.

Of course, Draco could have struck the youngest Weasley where it hurt; that was what he did best. Ginny wasn’t having the best Quidditch season this year, and she was still a Weasley dating the arrogant Boy Who Got Lucky—there were always insults that came with that. But what was the use? She was right. He felt like he had just been punched in the gut. Going home to his secure flat where no one would bother him or care to was infinitely preferable to playing tit for tat with her. 

She stood there, arms crossed, waiting for his retort. Draco promptly turned and walked away. 

That night, she came to his door.

It took several rings before he finally opened it. When he did, she looked at him plainly and said, “Sorry about that crack today. That was a pretty rotten thing to say.”

“I don’t need your apologies, _Weasley_ ,” he said in the most derogatory way possible. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere signing autographs or kissing Potter’s arse?”

Her face tightened and she appeared to be on the verge of cursing him out, but she didn’t. She huffed instead.

“Here,” she said, pushing a tin in his hand.

Draco looked down at it, with a sour expression. “What’s that?”

“Biscuits. Made them myself.”

Draco scoffed. “Like I’d ever accept food from you. You probably poisoned them!” 

She rolled her eyes and pushed it at his chest. “Just take it.”

He took them silently and curtly shut the door before she could utter another word. A half an hour later he finally tasted them. They were pretty good.

The next time Draco saw her was a month later. He thanked her for the biscuits and invited her over for dinner as a show of courtesy. She seemed taken aback, giving him a confused expression and mumbling that she probably couldn’t accept because of her hectic schedule. She quickly thanked him for the invitation and made a hasty exit.

Three weeks later she owled him, asking if the invitation still stood. He promptly owled back that it did. She owled once more to tell him she would be coming that night. 

Draco remembered being annoyed by her last minute warning, but he said it was fine all the same.

That was nearly a year ago and a memory he replayed often.

Now, as Draco stood in his dining room, he ran down his mental inventory of things to accomplish before she arrived. 

Softly lit scented candles — check. 

Soft music — check. 

Magically enchanted ceiling set to look like a star-filled sky — check. 

He stared up at it. 

_“Do you really always keep your ceiling charmed like that?” she asked._

_“Of course,” he lied._

Although she had never given him a compliment for it, something told him she liked it like that. 

Dinner — check. He cast a magical warming charm on the food, so it that it would be just right when she arrived. 

_“I’m impressed, Malfoy. I always took you for the type to order in or make your house-elves cook for you. Aren’t you just full of surprises,” she said in amazement that first night._

_“You have no idea,” he replied._

Draco smirked, looking at the feast laid out before him. Of course, he never cooked, he was a Malfoy, but the Manor’s house-elves who were still loyal to him did. Even if he no longer lived there, they were quick to prepare and bring over any dinner he requested. All he had to do was untidy the kitchen a little bit to give it a bothered appearance so he could take undeserved credit.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, conjuring two chilled glasses from the cooler. 

A nice red wine would have gone well with that night’s main course, but Ginny preferred Muggle beer. And only the best would do for her. He had bought an entire case of the best he could find in London. 

Clapping his hands, he surveyed his presentation. 

It was perfect. It had to be. Her visits were infrequent—almost rare—and most certainly _never_ happened on the weekends. But it was Saturday night and Ginny Weasley was coming over. 

Over the past year, he had entertained her nearly a dozen times. Their conversation was still stilted and awkward, littered with hesitation and unspoken words. They never discussed their past, their families, politics, or anything that could lead to severe disagreement. That left a limited number of topics such as the weather and Quidditch. It was enough. She seemed to prefer their silence to conversation anyway. 

Sometimes they would eat, but if Ginny wasn’t in the mood, she’d simply sit on his plush couch and drink her beer. They had even shared a few laughs, and on rare occasions, she’d sit in complete silence, drinking her beer. Draco would remain silent as well, offering only his company and nothing more. The night would always end with her taking a nap while he watched over her. 

If there was one thing Draco could count on about Ginny’s visits, it was that she would eventually fall asleep. Sometimes for an hour or two, but never the entire night.

She’d usually owl him the day she planned to visit, or sometimes just drop in unannounced. It was all fine to Draco, who never pressured her to return. And she would never give him any indication that she planned to.

His hope that she would was evident in the pristine cleanliness of his flat, in the special maroon sheets he had purchased just for her comfort, and in the way he stocked his cupboard with her favorite comfort foods and his cooler with her favorite beer. 

He held on to that hope even when weeks went by with no word or contact from her, or when she’d pass him on the street without so much as a glance or hello. He didn’t really matter to her. He was only an acquaintance she had dinner with every now and then, and a secret acquaintance at that, but for Draco that was just fine.

Some nights, he’d find himself pacing, trying to think of a brilliant excuse to owl her to come over, but he always talked himself out of it. He hated looking weak, and chasing the girlfriend of his nemesis was the definition of weak. Besides, he didn't think she would be available anyway. Her schedule was erratic. Her entire life was erratic. Being the starting Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and dating the Savior of the Wizarding World meant she was always on the go and surrounded by people who wanted her time. 

Draco, on the other hand, had all the time in the world. He had learned to play the waiting game for her. Besides, Ginny was not the sort of girl who responded well to prodding or pressure. 

It was the reason she’d come to his flat. She needed someplace safe and hidden. A place where there were no Harry Potter fans, no Holyhead Harpy fans, no Weasleys, no egoistical, whiny, broody, famous boyfriend to deal with. Draco offered her a lushly furnished flat with soft lights, calming music, a hearty meal, a good beer, and a comfortable place to sleep for a few hours. 

The doorbell rang and Draco took in a deep breath. She had once mentioned that she liked it when he didn’t look so perfect, so he shook his head about to give his hair a tousled appearance before opening the door. 

She stood on his stoop with a small smile and a tin in her hand. There were little bags under her fatigued eyes. 

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Draco said, smiling and trying not to reveal his excitement. 

“Come in,” he said, extending his arm inside.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping inside. 

Draco waited for her apology. She always made the same one. It had become a greeting of its own.

“I’m sorry for not notifying you sooner. I hope I’m not imposing?”

Draco smirked, holding out his hands to take her coat. “Yes, well, I did have to move a few things around,” he lied. “But it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Good.”

“I hope you like pumpkin and parmesan soup and shepherd’s pie.”

“Oh, I love shepherd’s pie,” she said with a smile that made his heart beat just a little bit faster. 

They ate in silence, as they always did. It was nearly comfortable, but never quite. There were always moments when Draco would hold a question on the tip of his tongue for several minutes before swallowing it down with his food. He’d always remind himself that she didn’t come here to talk to him, not really.

After dinner was finished, he asked if she wanted some pudding. She declined. 

“But I would like some more beer.”

He refreshed her cup and they moved to the couch in the same silence they ate dinner in. 

She was nearly halfway finished her beer before she finally spoke. “Draco…”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat to finally hear his first name on her lips. 

“Do you remember the first time I came over?” she asked.

Draco wrinkled his brow as if searching his memory. As if he could ever forget.

“Vaguely,” he said.

“After what I said, I just knew you thought all Weasleys were self-righteous do-gooders who judged everyone.”

Draco smirked. “Yes, well that is still generally true.”

Ginny huffed and gave him a small smile. “That’s why I really came over that night—to prove you wrong.”

He chuckled. “You still have some work to do, then.”

Ginny laughed. “You know, you’re a lot funnier than I thought you’d be.”

“So are you.”

“And nicer, too,” she added softly.

Draco put his index finger up to his lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”

She smiled and then looked down at her drink with a hesitant expression. “Can I ask you something?” 

He took a silent breath. _Yes, anything. You can ask me any bloody thing you want._

“Sure.”

“What were you just thinking about? While we were eating…”

Draco stared ahead, gripping the cup in his hand as hard as he could to relieve the pressure he felt inside. Should he really tell her? 

_I was thinking how lucky I am that you came over again. How much I’ve missed you. That it’d be really nice if you stayed over—all night. That I should say something witty or charming, but I’m worried my mouth would get in the way. I was thinking that I’m scared that you’ll suddenly remember that you hate me, and how awful that would feel because I like you … a lot._

“Not much, really,” he said.

She gave him a small smile. 

He wasn’t sure what it meant. Was that an empathetic smile or a polite one? Perhaps she was becoming dissatisfied with their awkward conversation and enigmatic silences. He remembered in school, Ginny had always been known for her quick, dry wit, and she had been very outgoing. A girl like her probably needed more stimulating conversation. 

He cleared his throat. “We can, ah, talk more, if you like,” he said awkwardly. “I’m not a real big talker, but…”

“You? Not a big talker? You had the most pompous mouth in school!”

“Yeah, well, that was then. We've all grown up, haven't we?" 

Ginny stared down at her beer, and slowly nodded. “I suppose we have.”

Draco watched her, trying to imagine what she was thinking. 

“I like our conversations,” she blurted out.

Draco scoffed. “We don’t even talk. Not really.”

“Sometimes people talk too much,” she said, looking down at her drink before taking a long sip.

Was she referring to her family? Her friends? Potter? Draco didn’t dare ask.

The fire in the hearth brought out the auburn highlights in her hair. He sat gazing at the multi-layered shades of red. When she looked up at him again, the flames reflected unshed tears in her brown eyes. His heart clenched to see such pain there. 

“You don't have to say anything. I won't ask." 

She nodded as a single tear fell onto her cheek. “I know.”

They sat there in silence while he watched her cry. Draco wondered what pain could be so great that would make Ginny Weasley, the toughest bird he’d ever met, cry in front of him. He wanted to do something, anything, to make it go away.

“Harry and I… we broke up last night,” she almost whispered.

His breath almost left him. Torn between relief and sympathy, he wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh... do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m tired of talking about it. I’m tired of thinking about it. I spent half the night fretting, and the other half trying to forget it all. Honestly, I just want to go to sleep.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to sleep here.”

She nodded, wiping her tears away. 

Draco chewed the inside of his bottom lip, feeling inadequate and ineffectual. Did she need a hug? She’d probably freak out if he tried. He wasn’t exactly the warm, affectionate type.

“I think I’ll just lie down for a few minutes.” She put her drink down on the coffee table and then stretched back onto the couch.

“I wish you’d do it in my bed,” he said quickly. 

Ginny’s eyes went wide and Draco instantly cursed himself for the way that had come out. 

“Er, I meant, my bed is much more comfortable and there’s a lot more room for you to stretch out, if you like,” he rephrased.

Ginny looked at him skeptically. “That’s very kind of you, Draco, but…”

“Please. I insist. The couch is comfortable, but every time you fall asleep there, I feel like a rotten host.” 

She sighed, giving him another small smile. “All right.”

He suddenly felt nervous, and put his hands in his pocket. It was strange, but he had never shown her his bedroom before; somehow that had always seemed inappropriate. He tried to tell himself this was no big deal as he led her back to his bedroom. A gasp behind him jarred him from his thoughts. He turned around to see what was the matter.

She moved past him to peer at the left wall, where there was a gigantic oil painting of a black sand beach with crystal blue water and a deep forest around the periphery, all under a cloudless blue sky. 

“This is beautiful! Is it an actual place?”

Draco shrugged. “Perhaps. I don’t really know. Wherever it is, I wouldn’t mind going.”

“Neither would I,” she murmured. She stood staring at it for a few minutes more, while he stood staring at her. 

_What am I standing here for? I should make a nice graceful exit now and leave._

Only his feet wouldn’t move.

She chuckled, prompting him to quirk an eyebrow. What could possibly make her laugh right now?

He followed her finger, which was pointing at the mirror-paneled wall behind his bed. 

“I always knew you were vain.”

Draco smirked. “Just because I don’t mind looking at myself doesn’t mean I’m vain.”

She snorted and then shook her head, her eyes moving up to the tree trunk shaped iron posters of his bed. Each of them resembled a black tree winding up to the ceiling, where they all curved in toward the bed, meeting over the center in the middle to form a tangled bird’s nest. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said with wonder.

“And you won’t ever again. It’s custom made,” he said proudly. “Just for me.”

He watched as she ran her hands up the cast iron metal vine detailing. She looked impressed, and that made him feel special. 

She began to walk around his bed, caressing his plain soft black down duvet. When she pulled it back, she snickered. “Maroon sheets, Draco? How Gryffindor of you.”

Draco scoffed. “Please get over yourself. Gryffindor doesn’t own the colors maroon or gold. Besides, I hardly ever use these sheets; you just happened to drop in on laundry day.”

She smiled, staring down at the mattress. “The mattress looks cozy.”

Draco nodded. “It is. And adjusts to the needs of the sleeper. It’ll stay this way if you like, but if you prefer it a bit firmer, just tell it so.”

Ginny took a deep breath and fell back on it, looking up at the ceiling.

Staring at her lying in his bed was surreal. His mind was racing, battling between leaving and standing there. Finally, he made up his mind to do the proper thing. Stealing one last secret glimpse of her resting on his bed for future wanking sessions, he took a step back to leave.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Ginny promptly sat up, frowning. “Draco…”

He tried hard to quell his hope. He wouldn’t allow himself to think past her saying his name, to contemplate what she was about to say. 

She patted a space next to her on the bed. “Lay with me for a little while. I don’t come here just to sleep, you know. I like your company.”

_I like your company._

He played it again a few more times in his head. He stared at her for a few moments, noting the dried tears still on her cheek. Sleep wouldn’t be enough to make everything better for her, but if his company could help, that would satisfy him until her next visit. 

He nodded, and then she smiled and stood up to pull the duvet down to slip underneath. She peered down at him while slowly laying her head down on one of his enormous fluffy down pillows. What she did next took him completely by surprise. 

Draco tried not to gawk as he watched Ginny take off her trousers underneath the duvet. At least that was what it looked like she was doing. He was confirmed right when she threw them to the side, onto the floor. That meant she was only wearing a long-sleeved Harpies t-shirt and her brassiere and knickers. He wondered what color.

“I hate sleeping with clothing on,” she explained. “They’re so restrictive. The less, the better.”

“Yeah,” he replied absently. He swallowed discreetly and then climbed into bed, careful not to appear too eager until his body was parallel to hers. Making sure to keep a gentleman’s distance, he left about eight inches of space between them.

As soon as he settled, she turned her back to him, scooting backward until the gap between them was practically closed. They were almost touching. 

Several minutes went by, or maybe only a moment—Draco couldn’t tell. Time seemed suspended as he stared at her back, listening for the first soft snore. He had never been this close to her while she slept. He usually sat in the chair near the couch as she napped. Being in bed with her felt so intimate. His sensitive nose detected rosemary mint shampoo. He leaned in to be sure. He silently sniffed her hair as it lay over the pillow. Yes. Rosemary mint. 

Her splayed hair revealed the back of her neck. He stared at the creamy white skin exposed there. So close. Leaning in close, he silently sniffed her. Lilac and… Ginny. Just like his couch always smelt once she left. Sometimes he would sleep there after her so even when her scent faded, it’d still be fresh in his mind.

The strange thought of kissing her popped into his head; he shook it off, but then it was back again, insistent, prodding. 

_Just do it. Kiss her. It’s not even a real kiss. Just the back of her neck. She won’t mind. If she does, she’ll just turn around and slap you. Either way, the tension will be gone._

He giggled maniacally to himself. Was he mental? She would most definitely slap him. 

_All right, fine. I’ll do it anyway. It’ll be worth it._

Draco closed his eyes, and moved in until his lips grazed warm soft skin. He placed a light kiss to her neck, letting it linger. She turned her head a little and he gulped, expecting her to turn around with wide, accusatory eyes. Instead, she wiggled back against him, her soft, barely covered arse rubbing against his pelvis.

He silently gasped. _Is she asleep?_

If she only knew how she was affecting him. He thought once more of leaving the bed, feeling guilty for taking advantage of a heartbroken woman in her sleep. But when he pulled back, she grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, wrapping him around her chest like a blanket. 

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

_Ah, she is awake! She let you kiss her! And she wants you to stay!_

Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out but a shaky breath. He forced the next words out. “I-I thought you wanted to sleep?” 

It was a loaded question. If she didn’t want to sleep, she clearly wanted something else. 

“I do,” she replied. “But having you here makes it easier.” 

“All right,” he said, trying to settle comfortably. 

But being in bed next to Ginny Weasley was anything but comfortable. It was the stuff of dreams, and Draco had gone rigid, afraid of making the slightest suggestive movement. Afraid she would think he wanted more and get up and leave. His other arm was killing him and he was almost hopeful it would go numb and fall asleep.

“Draco…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know any lullabies?” 

“Er… not really… my mum wasn’t exactly the lullaby-singing type, if you know what I mean.”

“No, she doesn’t seem like she would be. She’s very pretty, though.”

“Yeah. She is.”

There was that strange silence again. Draco racked his brain for something funny or witty to say. But there were a nothing of the sort to be said about his mother. 

“Your mum looks like she could belt out a fair tune,” he said instead. 

Ginny chuckled. “I wouldn’t call it fair, but she used to sing to us all the time. There was this one song she liked in particular. The wireless would pick it up from Muggle radio.”

He really didn’t have anything to say to that. He had no interest in Muggle songs or radio. So he remained quiet, staring at her hair, wishing he could run his hands through it. But then Ginny began to hum, and he found himself nodding along, enjoying the melody. 

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The song my mum used to sing to us before bedtime.”

“How’s it go?”

Ginny drew into herself as if suddenly shy. “I usually only hum it to myself. I can’t really sing very well.”

Draco moved closer to her, giving her a playful shake as he did. “Come on, then, let’s hear it,” he pressed.

She giggled and then sighed. “Oh, all right! Mm mm mmm… Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen. Give him two lips like roses and clover, then tell him that his lonesome nights are over. Mm mmmm… Sandman, I’m so alone, don’t have nobody to call my own. Please turn on your magic beam. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream…”

Having Ginny sing for him was unbelievable. Girls like her didn’t just sing for anybody, especially since she didn’t like her own voice. She obviously trusted him. He smiled, gazing fondly at the back of her head. 

“Not bad, Weasley. Your voice isn’t nearly as horrible as I thought it’d be.”

She snorted. 

“You say that’s a Muggle song?” 

“Yes, and a Yank one at that.”

“That’s weird. I thought I heard something about magic in there.”

“I know, funny isn’t it? I think that’s why my mum liked it so much.”

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“Draco…”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind if I stayed the night?”

Draco closed his eyes, hoping he wasn’t dreaming and not trusting his voice not to betray the feeling of joy springing from within him. He decided to give her a firm squeeze instead. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

She resumed her humming, and he lay there with her, just listening until the melody began to fade into their usual silence. His entire body was still stiff, but gone was the awkward apprehension he had felt before. It had been replaced by the gripping disbelief of a dream come true. Ginny Weasley was in his bed, and would be all night long. He was holding her at her request, and her bum was pressed firmly against him as if they had slept this way a hundred times before. 

When she began to lightly snore, he pressed his face ever so slightly into her back, feeling every breath she took. He could learn to get used to feeling her breath against him and her small, firm frame tucked inside of his protective embrace, and smelling her lilac skin and mint shampooed hair.

“Ginny,” he murmured without thinking of it. 

She sighed. It was a peaceful sigh. She sounded content.

Draco smiled in the darkness of his closed eyes. 

_“I like your company,” she had said._

He played it once more just to be sure and then moved in even closer until his pelvis grazed her bum. She wigged it against him and his eyes flew open. 

His earlier fear of taking advantage and being improper returned. He tried to inch back to restore appropriate space, but when he did, she scooted back with him. He felt stuck and blessed at once. 

_Is she awake now?_

Her breathing was still heavy and kept the same rhythm. 

_No, she’s asleep, and you’re a pervert._

He couldn’t deny it. The evidence was in his pants. He was very hard, and, peeking down under the duvet, he could see that she was wearing black knickers. They looked wonderful against her ivory skin, and her arse was shapely, just the way he liked. The desire to push his erection against it was becoming overwhelming. 

_What kind of arsehole would do such a thing?_

If she wasn’t angered by his earlier kiss, surely that would offend her. 

_She asked you to stay, and she wants to sleep here all night. She’s not naïve._

It was all the convincing he needed. He pressed his front against her arse, this time more firmly, and waited.

There was no sound or response on her part, and it felt damned good. He moved up against her, just a bit, and then a little more. He did it a few more times and then started making tight circular movements. 

When she shifted, he promptly froze, waiting for her to turn around or ask, _“Draco, what are you doing?”_

But that question never came. The arm he’d wrapped around her lay resting just over her stomach. He held his breath once more and moved his hand a little higher. Her hand stayed still on her stomach, even as his moved up her chest. Her left breast was closest. He let his fingertips touch the edge where it rested on her chest. So full, so perfect. His fingers climbed higher, softly caressing as they went, until they found her nipple. 

_You deviant. She’s asleep!_

Is she? Surely she could feel this? And she sighed and even moved. Her body seemed almost responsive to his attentions. Perhaps she wasn’t even asleep. The thought that she could be pretending to be asleep made everything all right.

He encircled her nipple and then gently squeezed. She made a slight noise but didn’t flinch or bat his hand away. 

Licking his lips, Draco pulled back his hand and quietly unbuckled his belt. 

_What are you doing?_ a voice screamed at him.

 _Oh, shut up! You know bloody well what I’m doing!_ another one answered.

He quickly unzipped his trousers, pushing them down with his underpants and kicking them softly out of the bed. Moving back in, he slowly reached out to touch her again. His fingers pressed against soft skin, and he looked down to see his hand on her thigh. When she didn’t protest or move, he stroked her until reaching the curve of her hip and then the swollen mound of her arse. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to squeeze her cheeks. Retraining himself, he caressed them instead. Still no response. He decided to press his luck just a bit more, despite the knot in his stomach. He moved up and closer, with the clear realization that his cock was several inches ahead of him, almost touching her. 

And then she pushed back. He wheezed in shock when her arse brushed against the exposed head of his cock, sending shockwaves down his shaft. He couldn’t help it; he needed to feel more. 

Holding himself steady, he ran his erection over the exposed flesh of her arse and then dipped lower to find her heat. 

She was hot all right. 

_Oh, Merlin, forgive me for what I’m about to do._

He felt around to find the edge of her knickers. Hooking a finger underneath, he pulled them to the side. She sighed again and moved, giving him more access. 

Encouraged, Draco pressed his lips against her back. “Stop me now if you don’t want me to,” he whispered.

No movement, no sound. No response. 

_That’s a yes. Go on!_

Surely if his words didn’t wake her, she could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

_She wants you._

Draco nodded to himself, letting his fingers slide down, following her heat to the wet folds of her pussy. She was very wet.

 _There. Told you,_ that same voice said.

He gently slipped one finger inside of her, twisting it around slowly as he did. This time, Ginny moaned and her hips moved a little. 

“Ginny, if you’re awake, tell me. We don’t have to pretend this isn’t real. There’s nothing wrong with it,” he said softly. But there was no reply and her breathing remained unchanged.

“All right, suit yourself,” he said, pulling his finger out. He straightened, putting his body flush with hers as he slowly moved his hips forward to position his cock at her entrance. He paused, staring at her head before pushing against her wetness to penetrate. Just the head, though. 

She shifted and when she did, he slid in even further. He held himself still at first, enjoying the warm wetness engulfing him. They fit perfectly. It was divine. 

The thought that he had gotten a lot farther than he deserved and should withdraw nagged at him but his desire for her quickly dispelled it. He threw the duvet back so he could see himself inside of her. He withdrew halfway and then pushed forward softly once more. 

She made a noise he couldn’t quite interpret. Was it a whimper, a moan? Was she experiencing pleasure? Or was he hurting her? Draco stopped once more, but after a few unresponsive moments, he placed one hand on her hip and began to work himself in and out of her at a slow and steady pace. 

Every so often, Ginny would sigh or moan, but mostly she just lay there and let him have his way. As the minutes went by, Draco’s confidence grew, and he got bolder, squeezing her arse and running his hand up her back and down again. He gripped her left hip more firmly, pulling her back onto his cock as he thrust forward. 

He kept his eyes on the back of her head, waiting for the moment to arrive when she would look back and ask him that one question. As his climax began to build, he began to hope that she would wake up and be so overwhelmed with passion she’d ask him not to stop. 

He closed his eyes and fantasized that she really was awake and only pretending to be asleep to ease her guilt and fear. And then she’d smile in relief at him and push back, giving as good as he gave. 

He imagined she’d cry again, but they’d be happy tears this time. _'I want you so much, Draco,'_ she'd whisper.

Draco’s body jerked as his orgasm arrived, forcing his mouth open in a silent groan. He tried not to rattle Ginny as his body convulsed, but it was hard. It was impossible to concentrate on anything but those last words he imagined her saying and releasing himself inside of her tight, warm wetness.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the euphoria of the moment began to dissipate, and the implications of what he had done hit him like a Stunning spell.

“Ginny?” he whispered. “Ginny.”

There was no response. She was still asleep, still unaware. 

_You despicable rapist!_ the accusing voice screamed at him. 

Was this rape? Her body had given consent, but she had never once awoken to say, _“Yes, Draco. Please continue. Don’t stop.”_

Draco felt his heart sink into his stomach, and he suddenly felt as if he were going to be sick. He quickly pulled out of her and reached over the bed to retrieve his wand. He did a cleansing spell on everything and then stared at her back once more. He pulled her knickers back to their proper place and gently pulled down her t-shirt.

The words "I'm sorry" were stuck in his throat. He'd never been good with saying them, and she couldn't hear him anyway. He swallowed and moved to climb out of bed. 

When he did, she flipped all the way over to face him. Draco sat frozen in mid-sitting position, staring down at her in apprehension. Her red mane was messy and all over the place: a lot of it was in her face, nearly covering her eyes. He couldn’t resist pushing it away, and when he did, she wrinkled her nose.

“Good night, Ginny,” he said, rising to leave. His heart was heavy, and he felt despondent about betraying the only friend he had left in the world.

“Draco!” 

Draco stared at his door, afraid to turn around. If she hurled a hex at him right now, he would consider himself lucky. 

Slowly, he turned to face her. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

Draco opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. She didn’t seem to know she had just been violated in her sleep. 

“Do you not like sleeping with me?” she asked, looking more even vulnerable than she had on the couch.

“Uh, no, I-I mean, yes… What I mean is, I don’t mind sleeping with you, it’s just that…”

“Then stop being silly and come back to bed,” she demanded.

Draco took small hesitant steps toward the bed. “Have you been asleep all this time?” he asked slowly. He had to know.

She smirked. “Of course.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, studying her. What was she playing at? 

“Funny, until I got up, you were sleeping so deeply, it almost seemed as if you were in a coma.”

Ginny shrugged. “Probably because you were here with me. Perhaps you’re my sandman.”

Draco felt his face flush as he stared back at her. _If that’s what you want me to be._

“Now if you don’t mind, I’d really like to have a full night’s sleep. Are you coming back to bed or not?”

Draco smirked. _Anything you want, Ginny._

“Sure.”


End file.
